


leave your heat anchored in dust

by cherryvanilla



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot, Size Kink, Smut, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-07
Updated: 2011-04-07
Packaged: 2017-10-17 17:57:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/179637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherryvanilla/pseuds/cherryvanilla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which there are muscles, tattoos, and sex. Seriously, no plot here.</p>
            </blockquote>





	leave your heat anchored in dust

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to jibrailis for beta and title.

Arthur had never particularly enjoyed being held down during sex before. He’s lithe but strong and even if his partner was a little bigger than him he always had the comfort of knowing he could take them. Then Eames had come along. Eames, who embodied four years of foreplay and snarking (Arthur was surprised his dick hadn’t fallen off given the frequency he jerked off since meeting the man). Eames, who would show up time after time, job after job, looking bigger and bulkier than ever. The Fischer job was the last straw. Arthur wanted to fuck that smirk right off of Eames’ face but instead had found himself face down over the desk in his L.A. hotel room.

This was the first time: Eames behind him, over him, all around him. Eames, who still looked devastating in black; the soft cotton of his pants brushed against Arthur’s bare thighs. Eames, completely dressed, sans jacket who had Arthur naked and groaning and held down against the mahogany. “You love this, don’t you?” Eames said when he was inside of Arthur, pinning him by the wrists and panting across the back of his neck, causing goose bumps along his flesh.

Arthur wanted to say no, because it was the truth. Normally, this did nothing for him. Normally, it would make him scowl, push back against his partner and say, ‘Quit with the fucking power games, I’m not some twink.’ Eames shifted closer, his shoulders bracketing Arthur’s body completely, and all Arthur could do was choke out a moan, turn his head, and bite sharply at the closest tattooed bicep. The response it elicited was a strangled gasp and quickening of Eames’ hips as he fucked Arthur hard. Arthur breathed in the intoxicating scent of sweat and Eames’ ridiculously expensive designer cologne while Eames’ hard chest slid against his back.

Eames’ hands gripped him tighter until Arthur had nowhere to go, no capability of moving against Eames’ weight. He pushed his ass back, met every thrust and came and came and came, feeling possessed and taken over. Arthur was still breathing against Eames’ forearm, licking at the tense muscles that were holding him in place when Eames spilt inside him, teeth scraping along his neck, a quiet ‘Fuck, yeah” escaping his lips.

The next time it happened Eames lifted him up against a wall with one arm as though Arthur weighed nothing. Arthur’s cock was already leaking before Eames had even touched him. He wrapped his legs around Eames’ waist and breathed deeply through his nose, having to force himself to look away from Eames’ shoulders, the massive bulk of his arms. Eames was double Arthur’s size and Arthur felt – fuck, he felt like some virgin. Eames’ cock pressed against his hole and his breath fanned across Arthur’s cheek. “Do you want me?” Eames whispered and Arthur felt more pre-cum leak from the head of his dick as it jumped against Eames’ thigh.

Eames smirked and kissed Arthur deeply, firmly, one strong hand coming up to hold his jaw in place. Arthur dug his heels into the small of Eames’ back and finally gave into the temptation; his hands traced patterns down Eames’ back, his shoulders, his arms. They kissed until Arthur’s jaw hurt and then Eames slicked up and pushed in. Arthur cried out and pulled him in closer with his calves.  
Eames crushed him against the wall, one large arm beside Arthur’s head, their chests pressed close together and heaving.

Arthur rode himself on Eames’ dick and gasped into his neck. He wanted Eames closer and that wasn’t even possible. He wanted to feel owned and moreover, he wanted Eames to never, ever stop fucking him. It was possible he said these words aloud while he came, again without being touched, his eyes trained on the way the muscles of Eames’ back moved beneath his skin while he fucked up into Arthur. Eames’ hips stilled for a moment and then he fucked Arthur harder, hefting Arthur’s ass in his palms and hitting his prostate on every stroke. Eames said, “Mine, you’re fucking mine,” and Arthur gasped and impossibly came a little again, his balls tight and drawn, his head swimming while Eames tensed and came himself.

Yeah, definitely probably said it out-loud, Arthur thought afterwards while they were in bed together, Eames dozing on his side. He couldn’t bring himself to care. Instead, he thought about asking Eames to tie him down next time. He’d keep the fact that it was only Eames who brought out these desires in him, to himself. The man didn’t need a bigger ego.

______________________________________________

Eames took some ridiculous consulting job Arthur hadn’t wanted to waste his time on. Instead, he went took off for Jamaica, smoked copious amounts of weed and waited for Eames to arrive. The day Eames did he rented a car, met him at the airport and handed him a blunt as soon as he got in the car. Eames grinned cheekily and accepted it with grand flourish. Arthur didn’t tell Eames he’d switched their reservation to Couples Negril. Upon arriving at the check-in desk, Eames just pressed closed to Arthur’s ear and whispered, “We’re so domesticated.”

Once alone in their private oceanside suite Arthur pushed him into a beach chair on the patio attached to the room, determined to defy that statement.

Eames was wearing a ridiculously loud orange cut-off shirt and board shirts. Arthur didn’t strip him. Instead, he proceeded to lick the roads that Eames' tattoos took over his body, painting them with slick saliva. Eames groaned beneath Arthur’s his tongue which was broad and pink, just like the flush that was making its way across the fake tan on Eames’ skin. Arthur let his tongue swirl over Eames’ shoulder, down his arms, beneath his shirt collar to trace all the ink he could reach. Eames’ shirt was bunched up around his neck now and Arthur hadn’t even made it to the dark lines of his torso yet before Arthur could feel the sweat building around Eames’ navel and the hard line of an erection poking against his thigh.

Eames pushed his hips up in the air, a low, baritone sound emanating from his throat, a sound Arthur well acquainted with frustration. Arthur, however, would not relent, his tongue continuing its journey in slow, hungry designs upon Eames’ flesh.

Eames gripped Arthur’s ass hard, and pulled him in close, forcing Arthur into a grinding rhythm. He let his erection drag along the inseam of Arthur’s thigh, pushed up against Arthur’s cock and keened softly. Arthur hummed and lifted his mouth to Eames’ right bicep while curling his hand around the left.

"Suck me, for the love of Christ, Arthur," Eames gritted out. His voice was deeper than Arthur had ever heard and it caused his dick to jump but he refused to stop. He wanted to make Eames moan and shake with his tongue this way. He moved to the right side of Eames' chest and started slow tortuous licks there -- teasing and flicking and sucking hard until Eames' hips rose again and again, insistently pushing, nearly knocking Arthur sideways from his straddled position.

Eames moaned and shook and squeezed Arthur’s ass. 'You have no idea how hard I’m going to fuck you for doing this to me,” he groaned. “Gonna make you scream, god your arse Arthur.”  
He ran a finger down the seam of Arthur's khakis, dragging it along the cleft of his ass. Arthur felt his mouth fall on a wordless sob but he couldn’t stop, no matter how much he wanted Eames to flip him over, shove his legs up and ride his ass like he had something to prove.

And Arthur wanted to -- god, how he wanted. He rode the length of his cock along Eames' spread thighs and felt the pre-cum soaking along his briefs. Eames undoubtedly knew how turned on he was, how Arthur’s flesh jumped at every word that fell from Eames’ lips. Naturally, this spurred Eames on.

"Want me on your tongue, yeah? You love licking, sucking, such a good cocksucker.. let me fill you up, hit the back of your throat while you take me all the way in, oh _fuck_.” Arthur watched out of the corner of his eye as Eames' hand moved frantically over the cotton of his boxers.

He licked his lips when he saw the dark red tip poking out. He wanted that foreskin on his tongue, wanted to rub his lips against it and make Eames squirm. Arthur put his right hand over Eames', stilled his movements. His teeth scrapped across the elegant lines of black on Eames' skin.

He heard Eames breathing hard through his nose. "Jesus christ, you're going to end me."

Arthur smiled against Eames' skin and stroked his palm over Eames' knuckles, restarting the movement of Eames’ hand, but slowly, languidly. Eames keened above him and Arthur felt his body stretch out further in the chair. "Talk to me, bloody hell I need to _hear_ you, you're so.. so fucking put together, I want to.. to destroy you Arthur and I can't.. I.”

Arthur looked up sharply at that, his hand curved and squeezed over Eames’ own so they were both just cupping his erection, applying delicious pressure.

"Do you honestly think you don't affect me? I'm so hard right now and it's all because of your tattoos, how incredible they look against your skin. I want to make you as crazy as you make me.. and licking the dark sharp lines.. knowing they're permanent.. a part of you. Fuck, Eames, I'm _jealous_.”

Before he knew it, he was hurled up by rough, strong hands. Eames devoured him, tongue hot and unrelenting, licking its way into Arthur's mouth and possessing him, claiming. Arthur moaned and gripped Eames' forearms, nails digging in. He dropped his weight until their erections were pressed firmly together on the reclining chair.

"You're mine," Eames moaned against his lips.

"Yes," Arthur gasped and tugged Eames' sinful lower lip between his teeth. He slotted their hips together tighter, harder.

"I want everything," Eames panted against Arthur's mouth when Arthur released him and he sounded lost, frantic.

"Tell me," Arthur groaned and bit his way along the edge of Eames' neck.

"No, oh, right there. No, you.”

Arthur's breathing stuttered and he ran his palm along Eames' sternum. His tongue worked in slow circles, dipped lower again back to the tattoos. "I want to suck you, feel you come apart on my tongue, just my mouth nothing else.. like it's the only thing you need. I want.. fuck I want your mouth on me, your lips.. I want you blow me until my vision is spotty." Arthur mumbled the words into Eames' skin on slow, unsteady breaths. Eames' hands clenched and pulled at his ass cheeks.

“God, I want your cock me, fucking fill me up, turn me over, use me, just -- push my legs up around my ankles and don't.. ever.. stop.. oh god, Eames.."

Eames sat up with ferocious speed, knocking them both out of the chair, sending them sprawling onto the deck of the patio. Arthur’s ass was hurting and it was too hot out here but he couldn't complain when Eames began stripping him of his pants. Eames growled and fumbled for the lube Arthur had the foresight to set down on the nearby table prior to tackling Eames.  
Arthur rested back on his elbows and just stared, licking his lips and gulping in heavy breaths while Eames took his thick cock out and lubed himself up, not even bothering to take off his shorts. Eames' eyes never leave Arthur's.

"I'm going to undo you. Going to fucking wreck you, love."

Arthur let out a full body shiver and lay down on his back. He pulled his legs up, spreading them wide. "Fucking do it."

Eames didn’t need to be told twice before he was over him, on him. He slid two fingers in unceremoniously. Arthur jerked and twisted.

"Ngghh," Arthur cried out, unintelligibly. "Give it to me, you bastard. Oh god, _fuck_ me."

He felt Eames still above him and curve his fingers inside the tight heat of his ass once, twice, before they were gone.

"I love you like this," Eames murmured and it sounded like a sigh. Then he slid in, bare and slick and fucking perfect, bending Arthur in two, lifting Arthur's legs over his shoulders and folding their bodies together until Eames was right there, their lips an inch apart. "Do you hear me? I fucking love you.” Arthur's eyes opened at that, and their gazes locked.

And then Eames started to move. "You're incredible. How are you so fucking incredible?" Eames said wondrously and licked along Arthur's jaw line. His hips slammed forward relentlessly, pushing Arthur onto the harsh wood with each thrust, Eames’ shorts chaffing against Arthur’s ass and inner thighs. It felt rough and incredible and Arthur knew he was going to come without even being touched.

Because Eames just wouldn’t stop. "I wish your mouth could be on my cock while I'm fucking you… impossible I know but my god, Arthur, to feel the wetness of your mouth and the tight heat of your arse, oh fuck,"

"Shut up," Arthur gritted out. "For fuck sake Eames just--"

Eames fisted his hand in Arthur's hair and pulled his head back, attacking his throat. He pulled out all the way out in one steady motion before slamming back in. Arthur's hips met him half way and rode just length of Eames’ cock like second nature. "I won't stop. Come for me, Christ, just do it. Lose it."

Arthur let out a helpless, thunderstruck cry and rubbed his dick shamefully along the soft lines of Eames' skin. "Oh fuuucckk." And then he felt it; an impossible build at the base of his spine. His balls tightened, arching upward and he clenched his muscles around Eames’ cock.

"Come on my tattoos, baby." Arthur’s brain shorted out at the words and an absent, "fuck” fell from his lips. He came then, painting Eames' skin with it, mingling in between the permanent reminders of Eames' life, of who he was -- _joining_ them. “Fuck," Arthur said again, but quietly, reverently. Eames kept fucking him hard but Arthur could feel the smile against his neck. He met Eames with every demanding thrust and listened to the sound of their panting, the slick slide of their bodies. One of Eames' arms was resting on Arthur's knee, holding him in place and when Arthur reached his hand to cover it, Eames looked at him and came, their eyes unblinking.

When Eames fell on top of him, Arthur pressed a hand to his chest and smeared the thick white fluid along it. It mixed in with Eames' chest hair and he'd probably be pissed off but Arthur was too fascinated with the way the white contrasted with black on Eames' tan skin. Eames pulled out and flopped back onto the deck. Arthur was sure his back was completely bruised and he probably had splinters but he didn’t care. Eames tugged him to his side, still panting like a racehorse. Arthur stared at Eames' chest and then bent his head, licking over the tattoo at his torso and lapping up the come there, tasting himself but also Eames -- fucking _Eames_..

Eames laughed weakly and Arthur felt a hand, soft and affectionate, in his hair. "You're incorrigible, darling."

Arthur said nothing, but he did allow a small smile to curve against his lips while he went about completing his task.

[end]


End file.
